Soft
by JunkoTheHatter
Summary: She was going soft. M!Shep/Jack.


She was turning soft.

There was nothing else to it.

Why else would she be laying in this room, under warm blankets, in the arms of the Commander?

She should get dressed and sneak out. She should go back down to her own bed, and remember who she is. Instead, she buried her face into the crook of his neck and tightened her arms around his waist.

Letting her mind wander, she shifted and turned so her back was facing him, putting them in a more comfortable position.

She'd never met another person like him, a bright light that attracted everyone to him.

She'd been attracted to him from the beginning, of course. If she had to sacrifice herself in this mission, she wanted to at least have a little fun, and he was challenging, a challenge like she'd never had, and God that made her even more attracted to him.

She never cared that he showed interest in the Cerberus cheerleader, and she would happily admit that she used all the rejection to…flatter herself with him. A seductive voice, a willing ear, and she'd been convinced that he wasn't the least bit challenging at all.

But…something went wrong. He went wrong.

She could easily remember his face, eyes on hers as he asked her questions about herself. She wasn't accustomed to that. Wasn't used to having someone interested in her past, in her thoughts. She wasn't even used to people knowing that she had them. She was just a tool, a weapon. She didn't have goals or opinions, she had stories, and all the training to kill violently and painfully with her biotics.

No one had ever treated her like a person before, no one had ever cared about whether or not she had feelings, or told her that she could make her own choices, and she could do whatever it was that she wanted to do.

She remembered hat he'd told her, on the night she'd joined the crew, that everyone deserved another chance, even as he'd laughed and told her that if she'd wanted to take over his ship, she'd need to get it over with.

The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd already been picturing him naked, his only flaw being the glowing scars across his body and even those made him sexy.

She'd wondered if he was faking it, this…interest…in the other's lives. She was very sure that sometimes this was the case, to further his mission or he was just nosy, but other times….not really. She could see the genuine in his actions and the way he spoke to the others on the crew, the emotion that he showed when he was talking about something or about someone who's been lost. When it was directed at her, she was no better at fighting it than anyone else.

She'd gotten drawn in, like the crew, like everyone they'd ever met. When he'd asked her to tell him about what she'd been through, about her life, she'd answered all of his questions, encouraged by a sympathetic look and a listening ear. She grew used to their conversations, finding comfort in them which was something she'd never done before with anyone, noticing that she was accepting little touches that he'd felt comfortable with. It wasn't never anything sexual, just a way to connect with his crew, to show that he supported them with everything.

She'd tried to shock him, and she ended up shocking herself when he'd furrowed his eyebrow and asked her why she'd thought it would bother him. She tried to push him off balance by teasing him with racy jokes, and found herself distracted when he would politely brush her off and decline.

When she'd finally kissed him, after they'd had a frustrated argument, she got the uncomfortable feeling that maybe she was the one who was getting played.

It was a cold splash of reality when he'd turned away from her, let go of her hand, and went to another. That made her do something that she'd never considered, something she'd never done before.

She told him to make a choice, and when he'd hugged her, pressed his lips onto hers, she'd felt a comforting warmth spread through her body, and she let out a sigh that she hadn't known she was holding.

After that, she'd wanted him all for herself.

She smiled into the pillow, that was a lie. She'd wanted him since she turned around at the prison and saw him pointing his gun at her.

He'd declined the first time she'd asked to sleep with him, keeping his hands behind his back, and refusing to meet her eyes. She would've laughed at him if she wasn't so distracted by her want for him.

She didn't let that discourage her, though; instead she was excited that she'd finally found something that made him nervous. She used this weapon mercilessly, initiating touches, whispers, and kisses that kept him distracted, just enough. Just enough to keep her on his mind.

When he'd invited her up to his cabin, it had been forced and extremely awkward.

That night…That night had been different from all the other times she'd had sex. It wasn't that the sex was especially good. No, it had been the fact that it had felt so right. Like that was exactly where she was supposed to be, like he was the one she was supposed to be sharing this with. The pleasure that it was him that was making her sigh and moan so much was more intoxicating than any of her other encounters.

Afterwards, he'd asked her about love, and she felt the fear rise in her stomach, making it's way up to her throat and making her mouth completely dry. Fear, like she'd never felt before, like she was trained to never feel, and she didn't know what to do with it or how to handle it.

She'd reacted with cruel words and furious looks, and he'd simply pulled her back into his arms, understanding in his eyes, and guided her back to his bed.

She'd slept in his bed every night since then.

It was never mentioned, at least not between the two of them, and he never seemed to expect it from her, but every night she would take the elevator up to his room, and every morning she would wake up in his arms.

He'd never mentioned love again.

She still hadn't figured out why that had bothered her.

She hadn't let herself think about it, to be honest.

After the mission had concluded, she had stated that she was free now, he had turned back to her and told her that she could do whatever she wanted, go wherever she wanted to go, even though she wanted him, desperately, to tell her that he wanted her to stay with him.

When she told him that she wanted to stay the smile on his face was so brilliant, she glowed at the thought that she had pleased him.

But eventually, she couldn't stand the understanding in his voice when he spoke to her, she couldn't let herself be drawn into the warmth and compassion that he offered her.

So she'd told him that she wanted to leave, and since he was an advocate of free will, he'd let her go.

She'd taken two steps off of the _Normandy _and onto the Citadel, and in the end turned around and went back inside deciding that all she really wanted was to lose herself in him, to pretend, just for a little while, that she was good enough for every bit of compassion he showed her and every look of trust he gave her.

She was a weapon. She knew better than to become attached to him, to allow herself to develop a weakness.

Again she thought that she should leave, just like she should have left every single time she'd chosen to stay with him, but what could she say? She was going soft.


End file.
